


It Was Good

by iamkathastrophe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10068905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamkathastrophe/pseuds/iamkathastrophe
Summary: Everything seems to finally be at peace, but then Dean wakes up only to find out it was all a dream.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote it a long, long time ago, back when I was still on season 5 or 6, so... so don't expect anything fantastic.  
> Beta'd by wonderful LoverAwakened.

It was good.  
                The sun was heating vibrant green grass, feathery clouds were gliding along the blue sky, and a warm wind was lazily moving leaves of nearby trees. Spring was in the air – the smell of blossoming flowers and the quiet singing of birds.  
Dean and Cas sat on a stiff blanket in the shadow of a large tree. After continuous begging, the coat and the blazer together with the tie ended up on the grass and Cas, left in his shirt and creased dress trousers sat with his back comfortably against the trunk. Cas has one of his arms around Dean’s waist, the other one was mindlessly ruffling the grass. Cas leaned his rough cheek against Dean’s hair. The scent of flowers and warm ground surrounded Dean and the scent of honey, cinnamon and metal that was specific to Cas. Somewhere above their head a bird chirped a happy song.  
                Dean lifted his head a bit, the wind tickling his neck. The hunter pressed his lips against Cas’ chapped ones. Dean kissed the angel slowly and gently. Dean purred contently when Cas slid a cold hand under the hunter’s shirt and began stroking his side. He sighed, resting his head on Cas’ shoulder again.  
                It was good.

                Dean jerked up, alert and looking around. He wasn’t sure what woke him, but he felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest. The spring afternoon was gone – Dean was in his room at the bunker. Dean’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, noticing the details of the room. Weapons hung on the walls, a gramophone sat next to a collection of vinyls. Everything looked just as it should. Almost.  
                Dean looked over at the other side of his bed, hopeful. He felt his stomach tie into knots. It was empty. Just like last month. H fell back onto the pillows, staring at the ceiling. He felt unpleasant pressure in his chest, it was as if he had a gigantic weight on him, crushing him and sucking the air out of his lungs. He bit his lip, tears stinging his eyes. He blinked, trying to chase away the unwanted tears, but it didn’t do much. The world became blurry, as hot drops rolled down his face. Dean rubbed his eyes angrily, trying unsuccessfully to steady his breath; short, shallow, rapid. He couldn’t just let himself go. He had to pull himself together! Dean threaded his hands through his hair, once again taking deep breaths to steady himself, closing his eyes.  
                Damn it! Dean missed the angel. He really missed him. How long had it already been? Five weeks? Six? And still not a word. Why didn’t Cas say anything? Did he change his mind? No, Cas couldn’t. He wouldn’t. The way his eyes shone and the way he spoke when they were all alone. It was honest. True. He wouldn’t leave Dean, not ever. Then what’s happening to him, Dean thought. Was Cas in trouble? Was he hurt? Or…?  
                Dean felt sick. A sob escaped his throat. He covered his mouth with his hand, although he knew nobody could hear him. Nobody could hear him cry. Nobody could see his tears and surely nobody would ever know how much he missed his angel.  
                “Cas, you son of a bitch” he whispered in between two sobs. “Where are you?”  
                There was no answer.  
                Eventually, Dean gave up. Sorrow and longing screamed louder than his pride. He broke. He pressed his face against the pillow, clenching his fists in the sheets, as a sob shook his entire body. His eyes itched and his throat burned, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Dean’s thoughts melted into a blurry, senseless hum, filled with helplessness and loss.  
                Dean didn’t know how long he lay curled in the bed, shivering, bitter tears streaming down his face. Eventually, exhausted, the hunter fell into shallow sleep with his hand placed over the spot where Cas should be.

 

                It didn’t take Sam long to see that something was wrong. He needed a second, one look to know that something bad happened.  
                Dean looked awful. He sat at the table with his shoulders crooked, looking blindly at some spot on the wall, eyes swollen and red. He held a steaming mug, humming some song under his breath.  
                “Dean?” asked Sam, sitting in front of his brother.  
                “Hm?” muttered Dean, gaze indifferent, bloodshot eyes making the green irises even more prominent.  
                “You okay? You look horrible.”  
                “Thanks.” Dean huffed.  
                “I’m serious. Have you even slept?”  
                “Like a baby.” Dean’s hand shook as he raised the mug to his mouth.  
                Sam cursed internally. Dean’s hands never shook.  
                “You sure you okay?” Sam frowned, concern filling his face, “Maybe take a nap?”  
                “Leave it, Sammy, I’m good.”  
                “Fine.” Sam stood. “I’ll make breakfast. Whaddya want?”  
                “I’m not hungry.” Dean mumbled.  
                Sam slowly turned, letting out an audible sigh, and faced his brother. “Alright, what’s the matter?”  
                “I said—”  
                “Bullshit. You’re always hungry, Dean, especially when someone else cooks. What… is… is this about Cas?”  
                Dean stiffened. “No” he rasped. “I’m fine.”  
                “Still no word? You think something’s happened to him?”  
                “For fuck’s sake!” Dean hit the table with his fist. “I said, leave it! Everything’s fine, understood?”  
                “Why do you always act like that?” Sam made a weird face. “Why can’t you just admit you miss him?”  
                A dark blue mug with hot coffee flew across the kitchen and crashed on the wall behind Sam.  
                “Don’t you dare!” Dean growled. “You hear me? Not a word! It’s none of your business!”  
                “Dare what? Make you realize you’re scared? Cause that’s the truth, Dean! You’re scared, because you care about him!”  
                “Sammy—”  
                “Maybe Cas won’t talk to you, cause he’s tired of you!” Sam regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. The last bits of colour disappeared from Dean’s face. He froze. Standing slowly, his whole posture rigid, he glared at his brother, patience dwindling.  
                “Get out” he spat, grinding. “Turn around and get out.”  
                “Dean… I didn’t mean it… I”  
                “I said… get out!” screamed Dean, clenching his fists. Green eyes burned with rage, his whole body shaking.  
                Sam bit his lip. He knew he took it too far, but it was too late and an apology would do nothing. He left without another word.  
                The very second the door closed after him, Dean plopped on the chair. His chest ached. He slouched even more, resting his forehead against the cool table. Was Sam right? No, he couldn’t be. Cas… Cas cared. He loved him, he knew it. But has Dean ever express his feeling for Cas in any way? Honestly, without holding anything back?  
Shit.  
                As he felt the lump growing in his throat, he began to sing the same song again.

                For the rest of the day he felt completely and utterly terrible. The weight that seemed to press on his chest during the night, spread to his shoulder, hindering any activity. As he was still mad at his brother, he avoided all the places he could meet him, like the library. He didn’t have the will to do anything, but at the same time inactivity drained him. In the end, he spent the majority of the day mindlessly staring at the snowy TV. He managed to find energy to do anything in the evening. He forced himself to leave the comfy chair and move to the bathroom.  
                He stood in the hot streams of water, trying to wrap his head around everything. Fact: he haven’t seen Cas in six weeks and he was being consumed with worry. Fact: he didn’t know the reason of Cas took off. He could’ve been busy, which was the most likely scenario. He could’ve the need to take a break from Dean. Sam could’ve been right and Cas was simply tired of Dean’s emotional constipation. He could’ve had enough… Or he could’ve been in trouble; maybe he was being followed. Maybe he didn’t want to put Dean in danger. Maybe he was hurt. Maybe…  
                Dean’s stomach dropped.  
                Fact: Dean was losing his mind.  
                Finally, he left the shower, put on an old T-shirt with AC/DC’s logo and a pair of sweatpants, entered the room and froze.  
                Castiel was there. In the middle of the room, between the bed and the desk. Cas with his oversized coat, uneven stubble and incredibly blue, sparkling eyes. He looked like always, painfully familiar.  
                “Cas!” Dean ran the short distance that separated them and hugged the angel tightly, the familiar touch causing goosebumps down Dean’s forearms. “Cas!” Dean inhaled deeply, filling his nostrils with the calming scent of honey, cinnamon and metal. Cas smelled like home.  
                “Hello, Dean” said Castiel huskily, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist.  
                “Cas…” Dean shut his eyes, which began to burn again. “I missed you.”  
                “I missed you, too” He spoke softly and quietly, resting his chin oh Dean’s shoulder.  
                “I haven’t seen you in six weeks! Where have you been?”  
                “I know. Sorry.”  
                Dean kissed him, cupping his face. He had a lump in his throat, and a sob starting in his chest. He missed the angel, Dean missed him so much. But now he had Cas back and only God new how much time they had before they’d have to part again.  
“                Were have you…?” he repeated, but stopped when he saw the exhausted look on Cas’ face. The angel could barely stand upright. “Cas?” Dean’s voice quivered, holding the angel in place. “Cas, what’s wrong?”  
                “Nothing. I’m just… weakened, that’s all.”  
                “Yeah, right. C’mon.”  
                He leaded Castiel to the bed and helped him sit down. The angel grimaced and groaned, straightening his back. A scarlet stain appeared on his chest. Dean’s pulse sped up. Ignoring the angel’s protests, he kneeled at the edge of the bed and unbuttoned Cas’ shirt. Across the angels chest was an ugly diagonal cut, still bleeding.  
                “What happened to you?” Dean whispered, carefully touching the swollen flesh surrounding the wound. Cas hissed.  
                “They surprised me. The angels.”  
                “Why aren’t you regenerating?”  
                “It was an angel blade” he pushed Dean’s hands away. “Please, leave it. It should heal in a few hours, maybe a day.”  
                “’Leave it’? Are you crazy?”  
                “You won’t help it anyway. My vessel will heal itself.”  
                “Let me at least dress the wound!”  
                “Fine” the angel sighed. He had no energy nor will to argue. Not after such a long separation. He could see that Dean was worried and the hunter wasn’t in good shape. Dean looked tired: there were dark bags under his eyes, his skin pale, hands trembling as he raised an alcohol-soaked cotton swab to Castiel’s wound. Castiel noticed that Dean had lost some weight and the elder Winchester reeked of whiskey. Dean’s once gorgeous green eyes were red-rimmed, bloodshot, and puffy, like he had been crying for days or weeks.  
                “You scared me.” Dean murmured.  
                Cas bit his lip. It was his fault that Dean was in such pain; physical and emotional. He shouldn’t have had left him alone for so long without word. Castiel terrible, but he never assumed Dean would take a long separation so badly. Seeing him in this condition was a shock. The angel honestly thought that Dean would their relationship like any other Dean’s ever had – not quite serious, something fun to pass the time. He didn’t think Dean would care about the angel being gone for a few weeks. Castiel was wrong. He was so wrong.  
                In that moment, as this incredible human put a stiff bandage on his wound with shaky hands, the angel understood that Dean cared about him. A voice in Castiel’s head told him Dean loved him. That same voice also said that Castiel didn’t deserve love. He was a pathetic excuse for an angel – weak, cut off from Heaven, disobedient, full of defects and flaws. According to Naomi, Castiel had a crack in his chasis. He wasn’t even worthy of the title of angel, but Dean… Dean seemed almost indifferent to that. It was like the hunter loved all the things Castiel hated about himself. Dean accepted all Castiel’s imperfections and gifted him with feelings no matter how many times the angel had let him down, or made a mistake. What Castiel previously considered to be reluctance, was in fact a distance kept because of pure uncertainty.  
                A hurricane of emotions tore through Castiel’s chest as he realized how Dean actually felt about him, about their relationship. Because after all the angel’s years; those hundreds of thousands, millions of lonely years he remained an impassive angel, without any real feelings for anything or anyone, suddenly there was someone who flipped Castiel’s entire world upside down; exploding with colours, smells, sensations and emotions he was never allowed to experience before. Because for this one person, time seemed to slow down and Castiel himself finally felt alive.  
                “Cas? Cas, what’s the matter?”  
                Dean was worried about him. Of course he was.  
                “Nothing.”  
                “Why are you crying?”  
                Castiel raised his hands to his face. It was wet. He hadn’t even noticed he was crying. Castiel looked up, those green eyes incredible, so full of warmth and care.  
                “I love you, Dean” he rasped, before he could stop himself.  
                Dean inhaled sharply, eyes gone glassy. What? Did Dean mishear something? Yeah, he must have, because there was no way his angel just confessed his love for Dean. The hunter stood up and hugged Cas tightly, feeling seconds away from another breakdown.  
                “I love you, too, Cas” Dean mumbled. He sat on Cas’ lap, wrapping his arms around the angel. “Don’t ever leave me again. You hear me?”  
                “Never again” whispered Cas. “I promise. I will never leave you again without a word. And definitely not for so long. Never.”  
                “I didn’t know what to think! I thought you were done with me, or you’re hurt, or… damnit, I thought you were dead!”  
                “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to make you feel like this.”  
                Castiel closed his eyes and stroked Dean’s back, absorbing the warmth of the hunter’s body. Castiel wasn’t sure what was happening, why they were both crying. He didn’t understand how one could feel so terrible and wonderful at the same time. The angel felt guilty and this guilt seemed to surround him, suffocate him, but at the same time, knowing that Dean loved him, the angel was filled with a weird kind of peace.  
                Dean loved him.  
                Shouldn’t love look… different? Shouldn’t it be a filled with happiness, all wonderful and joyful? Shouldn’t love be something positive? So why was Castiel’s breathing irregular and why were his eyes still full of tears? Perhaps love wasn’t only happiness. Perhaps it was joy and sorrow, fear and relief, pain and pleasure, hope and disappointment. Perhaps it was everything. The angel didn’t know the answer – all he could think about was how much he cared for Dean and how he would never exchange even a second spent in Dean’s company for anything else in the universe.  
                “Alright” said Dean at some point, straightening his back. “Enough with the chick-flick moments.” he added, wiping tears off Cas’ face.  
                “What?” he asked the angel half-consciously, looking up at Dean.  
                “Enough crying” Dean gave the angel a quick, chaste kiss “Think we both could use some rest, eh?”  
                After Dean made sure that Cas’ dressing was okay, he stood up and walked to the closet. He took out a crumpled T-shirt, throwing it at Cas and took a seat at the edge of bed, waiting for Cas to change. Finally, they both slid under the covers with a content sigh.  
                “Dean?” Cas whispered, as Dean cuddled to his chest.  
                “Yeah?”  
                “I heard you singing earlier. What song was it?”  
                Dean could feel his cheeks burn. “It was, uh… ‘You Are My Sunshine’.”  
                “Could you… could you perhaps sing it for me?”  
                “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine” Dean sang, yawning. “You make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please, don’t take my sunshine away…”  
                Dean and Cas fell asleep in each other’s arms with the words of the lullaby in their heads.  
                It was good .


End file.
